


Composition in D Major

by amasiuncula



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Music, F/M, Identity Reveal, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:32:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6359443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amasiuncula/pseuds/amasiuncula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marinette is a composition major who needs a violinist to play her newest piece.  Adrien is a violinist who is desperately trying to change his major to biology.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> You would not believe the amount of times I almost wrote "violist" :/

She pressed the keys of the piano down once more, an A in the bass, the rest of the chord lining up nicely above it, and smoothed it down to a D. The violin would play the D as well, ending the piece perfectly. She jotted it down on her manuscript paper, which was covered in days worth of pencil scratches. It needed to be written over, but all the notes were there. Her beautiful violin began the piece on a V, an open A, and then would play a small section solo: A, B, D, D, E, and then the piano would join in. She could imagine him playing the next few notes, his fingers gently placed over the strings, his right hand holding the bow just so, pressing to create melody to her harmony. She loved when he played, though she’d never liked violin, being a singer herself. His calloused hands played so precisely on the strings, the notes not screaming out but singing out. They were in the the same aural skills class, and his ears were as good as his playing, kindly correcting Nino when he’d sing the notes even just a little off. _Sing the notes back, it’ll help you remember, their teacher had said._ She loved hearing his voice, his rich tone, but he struggled with some higher notes. She felt he could have been a brilliant baritone with a little time. 

She pulled the sheets off of the stand and put them in the composition folder. The violin part would have to be written out separately later, but until then, she’d promised Alya to take a break from the practice room and have a real dinner at their apartment for once tonight. Then, of course, there was patrol with Chat. But first, home for home cooked (kraft) dinner with her journalist roommate. Shoving the folder in her bag, she lifted the curtain on the door, opened it, not having walked down the length of the hall before the room was filled. There was always a rush when private lessons ended at six- though she couldn’t imagine practicing so soon after a lesson. Maybe it was easier for instrumentalists. For composition she wasn’t even required lessons, but voice had been too hard to give up. She had always wanted to be a composer, scribbling melodies down on the backs of her assignments, but her heart had soared when she’d sung the melody, with perfect clarity. Every time. Well, maybe she could minor in voice.

The bus ride home took only a few minutes, where Marinette tried, really, really hard not to be _that person_ , singing to herself. 

Walking in the door, Marinette saw Alya passed out on the couch, wooden spoon in hand, as a pot of water sat, cold on the stove. She turned on the burner and took the the blue box out of the cabinet. The water came to a boil, so she salted it before pouring the pasta in. After living in a bakery for her formative years, she missed cooking and the constant warm smell that came from it. She missed cooking, and enjoyed every time she and Alya my-mom-and-I-always-got-takeout Césaire would cook dinner, instead of just chowing down on whatever they could find. As hard as her classes were, Marinette felt that no matter how hard she worked, Alya would always just put more of herself into her writing. Creative writing, scripts, hers had to be the best. That, and the years long mission that had been the ladyblog. Marinette chuckled to herself as she mixed the cheese sauce. If only Alya knew that the girl who she’d been keeping tabs on for the last five years had always been her best friend. She added the pasta back in, mixed it, and poured it into their two bowls. She set one down on the table next to the couch, which honestly was their dining room table, in a tiny apartment as they were, and sat across from the sleeping Alya. 

Alya and Nino had broken up a few years ago, but somehow were still close friends. She still didn’t say anything about her stream of partners since to him, but friends nonetheless. They often dragged Adrien and Marinette (the “artsy people”) over for video games, or nights out, or for nothing at all. Karaoke was out of the question though, after Marinette had gotten way too into it in her buzzed (drunk, her friends would say) singer stupor. Too bad, any excuse to hear Adrien sing would be a good one. She’d hold back on the singing, she swore. None of them believed her, but she would, if only so she could hear that sweet, blonde, baritone. 

On the couch, Alya stirred.

“Mac and Cheese is ready,”

“Food,” Marinette giggled, her roommate was not the most articulate when waking up. Slowly, she sat up, and took the bowl, “I wanted to cook with you, you know.”

“Less chance of something setting on fire this way,” Marinette joked.

“Aw shush,”

“You can do the dishes.” Winking, Marinette stood up and put her bowl in the sink before heading to her room. 

“Where are you going, it’s so early?” 

“First of all, its nine, and second, I’m fucking tired,”

“But, but...”

“And don’t you have ladybug search tonight anyway?”

“Yeah I do. Mac and Cheese next Wednesday then?”

“Yep. Don’t burn anything washing the dishes.”

“Ha ha.”

Marinette finally let Tikki out of her purse, safely inside her room. She had the smaller of the two rooms, barely able to fit her twin bed and dresser. There was a keyboard on the dresser, and a guitar stashed in the corner. But, it had the fire escape attached to it, which was something she desperately needed. In the summer, she thought she might grow a small garden there, but mid-December as it was now it was barren. She slid out the window, and shut it from the outside. Getting back in was a little tricky, considering that the window really was not supposed to open that way, but it was worth it so that Alya wouldn’t suspect her to be Ladybug. For all her years of work, Alya was oblivious though, so it’s not as if anything would have tipped her off. They’d always worn their hair in the same style, even the long French braid she had now. She’d never catched on though, or maybe hidden what she’d suspected. 

Before exiting for patrol, Marinette slipped on warmer clothes, hoping they’d be enough to prevent her from shivering through patrol. Last night, she’d ended up too close for comfort to Chat for warmth, and warmth alone. There was definitely nothing more there, and it definitely wasn’t comfortable. No, the opposite of that. Incomfortable, uncomfortable, whatever. She definitely did not like the way his deep breathing felt against her back, the soft way he’d sang _my lady_ when she’d spotted an akuma attack. She knew she didn’t like how quickly she’d had to run off after the attack, and she knew he didn’t like that either. She stepped out onto the firescape. Her curtain was down, so no light could be seen inside her room, and turned into Ladybug. It was nine thirty, giving her, well, exactly no time to meet Chat.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reasons Lila and I are the same person: Italian, bitchy, violists, and we have almost the same name. Though I prefer basses to baritones :P.

Adrien leaned against the railing at the top of the Eiffel Tower. Ladybug was late. His breath came out in a white fog, it was just below freezing, pretty normal for mid-December. Most people wouldn’t wear just a spandex suit out in December though. The gloves and boots kept his fingers and toes warm, but his nose was left out to the open, he really needed a scarf. Ladybugs feet softly hit against the floor behind him, and he heard the soft whine of her yo-yo retracting. Her steps toward the railing produced small clangs against the metal floor. She reacted the railing, Chat spun around, taking her hand. 

“My Lady,” He purred, taking her hand and kissing it. She pulled away.

“Anytime, Chat,” She turned around, looking over Paris. The city of lights was beautiful at night, but Chat thought it could not compare to its savior. Her beautiful long legs had become more muscular throughout the years, the red spandex doing nothing to hide their graceful shape. Her waist was slim, but her shoulders had grown broad with muscle, her once slim arms were now sturdy. Her long hair was woven in the back into a long plait, which rested midway down her back, the unbraided ends hung straight down, no wave or curl, a red ribbon in a tight bow closing off the plait. 

She hummed a small melody whilst looking over the city, the golds and oranges of the streetlights reflecting off of her reflective suit. _A, B, D, D, E, F#, E, D._ The notes were soft against her lips, and it was a sweet melody. He may have joined in, but he knew that his voice was not nearly as sweet as hers was. He wanted to hear hers anyway. It was sweet, it was soft, and even with just a hum, the high F# rung out nicely. Her lips, pale pink and slightly shiny, as though she had a thin coat of gloss on, moved slightly to create the notes. Her moved to her side, and hopped the railing so he could perch on it. How he wanted to kiss those lips. They’d been partners for so many years now, he had loved her or so many years now, but he had never even kissed her, not that he remembered anyway. Sure, she’d kissed him on the cheeks sometimes, but when he dreamed of how her lips would feel on his, it couldn’t compare. 

It wouldn’t be his first kiss, or anything like that, he’d dated before, but though he loved the attention, he had always broken up with them. Most recently, his father had paired him with a violist at the same conservatory as him. Lila had been her name, and she’d had long hair, just like his lady, but it was in a dark brown, tied at the ends. There was no doubt that her playing was excellent, but he’d hated how she had bragged. _Oh, flute is my first instrument, but aren’t I so great at viola too?_ He’d heard her play flute once or twice, and it made a beautiful, haunting sound. She liked to use harmonics to make the notes she wanted, as opposed to using the basic fingerings, giving it a cold tone. In their theory class she’d played a composition on an alto flute, its deep tone somehow still not warm under her breath. She was C minor, his lady was D major. The key of victory, the twinkle in her bright blue eyes, her grin. 

He licked his lips, they were becoming dry and wind burnt. 

There was a flash of purple-blue light, and then the city became just a little quieter, a little darker. A few cars stopped. There was another flash, a few screams. The city became a little quieter again. 

“Let’s go,” Marinette leaped over the railing, and Chat followed suit. They sprinted over rooftops, her carefully placed steps a few feet behind his. She used to be faster than him, but he’d gotten a lot taller, almost six inches taller than her now. Last night, he’d comfortably rested his chin on her head. He reached he intersection where the cars were stopped, and there were no lights on. The square was dark, all the people had run away. The cars sat there, off, the doors still open, people's purses and briefcases sat on the passenger seats. Another block went down. Chat ran after it. A stocky woman stood in the middle of the block, her gloved hands buzzing with electricity. Chat hid behind a car, trying to figure out how to approach her. She glowed blue-purple, so he could hardly stay in the shadows. He heard ladybug step into place above him, standing gracefully on the dead street lamp. Then, he heard the click of a smartphone camera. 

Alya was crouched halfway behind a car. She had her phone held in one hand, notebook in the other, her pencil sitting in the spiral binding on the notebook. The camera clicked, she’d forgot to put it on silent, after taking her picture, and the villain turned towards her. Her silver hair was glowing with electricity, and her hands too. The air around her seemed to crackle with energy, and so Alya tried to run. She shakily stood up, about to turn, when the woman turned toward her, and grabbed her phone right out of her hand. 

“No you can’t do that! I need that!” Alya screamed. The woman dropped it, allowing it to fall to the earth, shattering. 

“Well, I needed people to just realise that paying me a little more than that incompetent menace to fix their wiring was worth it, but no. No, no they had to go for the cheap one, and then run to me complaining when nothing works. Well, now they’ll only get electricity from me!” She let go of Alyas wrist and turned away, walking down the street, bringing down streetlights with her. 

Ladybug dropped from her stand, landing next to her Chat. “What do you think the akuma is?” 

“I don’t know,” Chat whispered back, “maybe one of those tools around her belt?”

“Yeah, probably, but which one?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s her gloves?”

“How would we ever get those off?”

“Lucky charm.”

“Ok, you hold her up. I’ll try to grab the akuma. Avoid using cataclysm just in case this takes a little extra time- she’s moving pretty fast.”

“Alright my lady.” Chat stood up, racing after their opponent. He caught up with her quickly, jumping over her in his most cat like manner to hold her up. He even landed on all fours, his claws digging into the pavement to stop his sliding. Standing up, he unfolded his baton, just as she rushed at him. Remember your promise. Chat Noir and Ladybugs miraculous. She nodded, and went after the cat. He countered her lunge his his baton, but she grabbed it, causing a shock to run through the cat that would have made his tail stand on end, should it not have just been a piece of limp leather. His hair did stand on end though, giving his chopped locks a new, 80’s-esque style. He dropped into a squat, and kicked at her ankles, while She attempted to grab his tail. She tripped, falling over him, grabbing hold of his tail, so he kicked at her stomach, causing her to release her grasp and slide back about three feet on the rough pavement. 

“Lucky charm!” Marinette shouted, and a rush of pink light and hearts came from behind their opponent. A bucket of water landed in her hand. “Huh.”

The woman ran towards ladybug, sparking, and ladybug splashed water on her, causing her to crouch down, buying ladybug time. She looked around. There was a lamppost, and a car. She ran at the car, causing the woman to chase her, and used the hood to attach her yoyo to a lamppost about 25 feet away. The woman ran to her at the car, causing it to start, and she leaped off, towards the lamppost. The car pushed the older woman with it, to the next car over, under the lamppost. This sandwiched her between the two vehicles, and ladybug leaped down to grab her gloves. They were big and rubbery, loose on her hands, and out of power, so Marinette could easily grab them. She tossed them to Chat Noir, who pulled the cotton lining from the gloves, causing a black moth to appear.

“I’m freeing you from evil!” Ladybug shouted, swinging her yoyo around as so to capture it, turing it to a glowing white moth. She threw her yoyo to the sky, and the damage was repaired. The cars returned to their position, Alyas phone repaired itself, and the lights flickered back on. “I’ve got to go, Chat.”

“Of course, my lady,” He responded, dropping to kiss her hand. 

“Speak to Alya would you?”

“Of course.” And she ran off. Marinette was glad that when she would return home, Alya wouldn’t be there, so she could walk in the front door like a normal person. A normal person without a coat or key. Shit.

After helping the woman, her name was Marie, regain her groundings, Chat walked over to Alya, who it seemed only had that one picture of the whole event.

“Can I interview you?” She asked excitedly.

“Yeah sure.”

“So, whats up with you and ladybug recently?” She turned on the video function on her phone, aiming it at him.

“I love her, she is indifferent, as she has always been.”

“I guess this black cats down on his luck, hmm?”

“It seems so,” he said, turning away, humming the tune his lady had been earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all ya'll who don't know ~music stuff~ here goes:
> 
> Viola- slightly lower than violin. Usually plays harmony. Butt of music jokes.  
> Alto flute- lower, warmer than flute. Kinda a weird instrument. I am in love with it.  
> C minor- Just a really depressing key signature.  
> D major- Key of victory, really nice key. Nice to play on a stringed instrument.  
> A, B, D, D, E, F#, E, D- Beginning of Loch Lomond/Red is the Rose.  
> Music theory- Hell. A class where one learns how classical music is put together.  
> Aural skills- Hell part two. Hearing skills for music, ability to hear what notes are being played, their relationships to each other, etc.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for masturbation in this chapter, though not very explicit.  
> The date for the first chapter of this fic is 12 December, btw.

Adrien checked the ladyblog for any updates that night, scrolling through pages of pictures of him and ladybug in the blue light of the computer screen. A rough knock came through the wall. 

“Stop hogging all the fucking bandwidth!” Nino shouted from his room, no doubt trying to play some video game. He wasn’t particularly good, but that did not stop him from logging endless hours. When Alya dragged Marinette over, she’d soundly kick everyone's ass. Sadly, that included his. “Adrien!”

“Yeah?”

“Stop jerking off to the ladyblog and let me play!”

“So what if I am?”

“Ew dude!”

“Oh, oh ladybug!” Adrien sang in the most false falsetto. “O-o-oh ladybug, you-”

“Oh my God stop! The only person more obsessed with ladybug than you is like, Chat Noir.” Adrien blushed. Well, Nino was pretty much correct. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll turn off my wifi. I have some ecology homework to do anyway.” He didn’t really, he’d finished it that morning at the library, when he’d told his father that he was heading to the practice rooms. His father would definitely learn that he hadn’t been practicing soon enough. The famous composer had wanted his son to violinist since he was little, just after his mother had left. She’d been a first chair violinist, and so a half size violin was shoved into his hands, his little hands learned how to rosin the bow hairs, to pluck and play the strings. He hadn’t minded, seeing his father's face light up after he’d played Mozart's violin concerto number four, the rare smile gracing his face. But he couldn’t imagine playing violin forever. He hadn’t really found anything he’d liked until he’d met ladybug, her daring smile, her beautiful silhouette. His love for her had waned in high school, perhaps due to business, perhaps due to the stream of girlfriends and pieces his father had thrown his way. Now, in his first year of university, living on his own(...ish) he’d fallen back in love with her. Her long braid sexily pulling back her thick hair, her bright blue eyes not dimmed at all, she was magnificent. Often, he’d imagine her lips, that had touched his so long ago, touching every part of him. How cruel it was that he couldn’t even remember what it had felt like! His first kiss, her lips on his, and he could not remember the feeling. Perhaps it would have satiated him. Perhaps not. But even thinking about her lips on his got him going. 

He flicked off his desk light and squirted some lotion into his hand. Nino wasn’t really so wrong, after all. His liked to imagine her lips on his, but he also liked to think about her lips around him. 

He’d feel guilty after of course.

~~~~

At around ten the next morning, Marinette was writing the violin part over in pen. She had aural skills at noon, and would ask Adrien to play the piece then. The first section wasn’t hard, but it quickly became more difficult. Even should it have stayed simple, she wanted it to sound beautiful, after all. It was her final piece for her composition class, and she had put her heart and soul into every note, every harmony. With the final barline in place, she capped her pen, and dressed. She slipped on pink wool socks, black jeans, and a loose, long sleeved pink top. She had a pink scarf, and pink hat, and put on a white peacoat over. Paris was starting to get cold. She grabbed her bag, and put her knee high black boots on by the door. Her fluffy pink socks poked out a bit from underneath.  
by the door. 

Aural skills took too long, both Adrien and Marinette decided. Nino would have decided that too, if he hadn’t been so worried about the upcoming final. He was majoring in music technology/production, not performance! They only had two weeks until the final, making this the second to last class. They went through a few dictations, Adrien avoiding humming as to not help Nino out too much- he didn’t think he could hum on the final. Marinette scribbled out the melodies on her staff paper, dreaming about how sweet the melody would sound with Adriens violin. Or voice. The professor went over the topics on the final, and then she let the class out. 

“A-adrien!” 

“Yeah?”

She searched through her bag for papers. “I have this piece for the composition final, and um, it’s for piano and violin, and I was wondering if you could play it?” She handed him the sheet music. It was hand-written, while most people would type theirs, but her handwriting was impeccable. 

“Yeah sure, how long do I have to learn it?”

“A little longer than a week, sorry. I wanted it to sound perfect...uh we can record it if you want to, you don’t need to play for the class.”

“We’ll see how it goes, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I have a class in half an hour, but maybe at seven you could come over to mine and Ninos so we can practice. You remember where we live right?” 

“Yeah, he won’t mind the noise though?”

“Who are you kidding, as long as we don’t use too much wifi, he’s golden.”

“Hey!” Nino shouted at his friend, “That’s true though.”

Marinette only had one more class left that day, and it was voice. So, she headed out of the hall, and towards the small coffee shop on campus. She would probably spend more time there, should her classes give her less...noisy homework. They had pastries there, though in her totally and completely unbiased and definitely not missing home, no, not at all, opinion, they were not as good as her parents. So, she bought a hot black tea, no milk no sugar. She usually liked it with milk, but her voice lesson was in an hour, and she didn’t want her voice to sound odd for any reason. Her performance was planned for a week and a half from then, and she had the music memorized, but she wasn’t yet confident. She didn’t spend all her time on voice, unlike some of the other students, and she was worried about how she would hold up. She wasn’t a true soprano, but a mezzo, and was a bit worried about some of the higher notes in her piece. At least, she didn’t have to depend on the result of this final. She checked her phone, and saw there was a big snowstorm supposed to come in the next night. Hopefully nothing would be delayed, with finals so soon, stupid university planning everything so close to the winter holidays. Oh! She had to tell Alya just who’d be playing the violin for her.

To: Alya

> Guuuuuueeeeessss who’s playing the violin for my piece? 

To: Alya

> Guess, guess guess!

From: Alya

> Lila right :P

To Alya:

> First off, she plays viola! And second, noooooooo

From: Alya

> Viola, violin, what’s the difference?

From: Alya

> Wait did you get Adrien to play for you?

From: Alya

> Girl this is big! Oh my gosh!

From: Alya

> You’re not going to stutter in front of him right?

From: Alya

> Or break anything

To: Alya

> No! I'm meeting him tonight to practice. Anyway, got to go.

Marinette grabbed her bag and tea, and raced off to her lesson. She tried her best to be on time, she really did, and this lead her to often be early on days without attacks. She still had fifteen minutes until her lesson when she arrived. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fic, so if anyone could give any reviews/advice that would be the bomb! Thanksies!


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which amasiuncula does not quite know how to read treble clef, despite playing flute.

Adrien walked home after class, his hands around the papers Marinette had given him a few hours before.  He didn’t have gloves, and it had gotten cold out, but he wanted to look at the music.  There was no piano part written, but the chords were neatly marked.  He began with a pick up, an eighth note A and an eighth note B.  They weren’t slurred.  The next measure had the full four beats,  _ D, D, E, F#, E, D.  _  He hummed it to himself.  It was a sweet melody.  He could not wait to see how the harmony would work with it.  The first section went only up to a high B, before ending on an E.  The next section began much the same way as the first.  He hummed it again.   _ A, B, D, D, E, F#, E, D.   _ It sounded so familiar.  Maybe he’d heard Marinette humming it in class?  Who knew.  Marinette was always humming something to herself.  She had a nice voice, though, just like his lady.  He wondered why she didn’t major in voice.

When, for Ninos eighteenth birthday, they had all gone out to drink, they’d ended up at a karaoke bar.  Maybe it was at Alyas instruction.  Anyway, a drunken Marinette had signed up to sing Wannabe.  Yes, the spice girls song.  To be fair she had rocked it.  That was, however, before several more drinks, and before the two of them had decided to sing You’re the One That I Want.  He didn’t actually remember that, but Nino had told him the day after.  Adrien could only hope that Marinette didn’t remember either, and hadn’t been told.  His hands were getting cold, and he just glanced over the rest of the pages.  A key change in the third part, returning back to one in the next.  At the bottom, after his part had returned to the tonic, Marinette had scribbled some notes.   _We’ll decide on vibrato and dynamics when we play, yes?_

He arrived home, opening the door to the apartment.  It was bigger than Marinettes, but smaller than his childhood bedroom.  The kitchen was small, and the counter had a few stools next to it, forming a small dining room.  They had a small balcony, just off the kitchen.  The living room held the television, “couch”, which was really a futon, just because it was cheaper, but no tables or chairs.  Adrien had a bed, desk, and dresser in his room, along with his music stand and instrument.  His keyboard and its stand were folded up into a corner.  He did not want to think about what Ninos room looked like.  The amount of snacks that entered and never returned make him fear for both the boys digestive tract and the cleanliness of his room.  

He placed his violin case on the bed, and opened it.  He had three bows, two for practice, and one good one.  The violin itself was covered with a satin cloth, and there was a drawer for holding supplies at the top.  He grabbed his shoulder rest before pulling the violin out from under the cloth.  He attached the rest to the underside, and then positioned it under his chin before reaching for a practice bow.  He tightened the bow, and then rosined it.  Gently, he put the bow down on the G string, and began to turn the knob, to get the instrument in tone.  His father had always insisted that he tune by ear, no matter how young he had been.   _A good musician knows both what he is hearing and what he is playing,_ he would say.  He tuned the rest of the strings, and then played a few scales as a warmup, starting on C.  Confident he was ready, he took Marinettes piece out of his bag, and placed it on his stand.  An open  A, one finger to create B, and then onto two Ds, and an E.  The beginning was simple, but sweet, the piece, he knew, would get harder, but as he worked through the first page he could not shake the feeling that he had heard it before.  Was Marinette copying someone else's writing?  He didn’t think she ever would, he knew how she’d reacted when her song was copied in their middle school song contest.  

The first page done, he replayed it, and again could not shake that feeling.  He set his metronome to a moderate speed, playing in time, and again, could not shake the feeling that he had heard it before.  He hummed it.  Ladybugs song!  Well, she and Marinette _were_ friends, so that made sense.  He moved onto the next section, his bow gracefully and slowly gliding across the strings for the long notes, quickly and smoothly moving for the quicker runs.  With the key change, he felt he should move a little slower, so he penciled that in.  It was four by then, and Nino was still in his room, napping presumably.  The piece was practiced, and Adrien didn’t have classes the next day.  He was well enough studied for most of his finals, and his bed was calling him, anyway.  He packed his violin away, and crawled into his bed, pulling the heavy blankets over him.  It wasn’t long before he was asleep, breathing deeply, his head face down on the pillow. 

Adrien would not remember much of his dreams from that nap, but what he did remember consisted of him singing, but in a very high-pitched, feminine voice for his ecology class.  He thought the number was Spice Girls.  He remembered hearing a few snickers, a few few people wondering why he didn’t just go back to music. 

From:  Nino

> Dude

From:  Nino

> Dude

From:  Nino

> Dude Marinettes here, you better not be asleep.

Marinette was a bit relieved when Nino opened the door and not Adrien.  He had cheeto dust on his fingers, and looked like he hadn’t changed clothes in two days, even though she had seen him just that morning.  

“Uh, come on in.  I’m sure Adrien will be out in just a few minutes.”  He’d tried texting, but when that had no response, he had banged on the door to Adriens room a few times.  That had gotten a response, and a freshly awoken Adrien opened the door.  Marinette thought she was going to faint.  His blonde hair was messy, and all pulled to one side.  His black, long sleeved shirt was pulled up past his bellybutton, and his pants sagged an inch or so.  A peek of cream colored boxers showed, and so his his dark blonde happy trail.  

“Um, hi,”  Marinette said, poking her head into the living room from the kitchen.  Adrien flushed, and pulled down his shirt.

“Uh, come on in.”  

Marinette carefully walked into his room.  It was nice, the sheets were all ruffled, and his laptop sat closed on his desk.  Adrien followed her in and sat on his bed stretching.  “I’ll need your help setting up the keyboard.”

He carefully went around her, really just by rolling over his bed, and pulled out the keyboard stand, setting it up before placing the keyboard on top of it.  “Pass the desk chair over, would you?”

Marinette passed it over, before walking around the bed to sit down in front of the keyboard.  She pulled out the full score, and set it carefully on the stand.  He pulled his instrument out of his case, and readied it.  Marinette was transfixed.  How many times had she seen someone set up a violin?  How many times had she seen Adrien set up his violin?  It didn’t matter, she loved it.  He readied his bow, and Marinette played a G on the keyboard.  

“You know,  I can tune on my own.”  Oh my god, how stupid was she! Of course he could tune solo, he was a great musician!  Marinette waited for him to tune before speaking again, her face turning redder and redder.

“You’ve probably already looked over the piece, but it begins with you solo, and then I come in.”  She pressed down on the A, and sang the note back.  So, your first section goes, “Sol, Fa, Do, Do, La, Ti, La, Do.” She continued singing, as her careful fingers began to play the piano part.  It was beautiful.  Her voice, the song, all of it.  “Can I hear your first section?”

Adrien held up his violin, and started his bow in the string, sliding it down, and then up again for the pickup, and again and again for the rest of the section.  His fingers played the notes finely, and, as he had just worked with the metronome, it was in time.  

“Great!” Ohmygodhewasperfect.  Marionettegetyourshittogether.  “Lets try the next part, but do you have a metronome we could use so that we can stay together?”

“Yeah I do.”

“Okay, great.  I hate working with metronomes though, they always make me feel really nervous!”

“Yeah!  It’s like having a really bossy teacher!”

“Absolutely!”  

They turned on the metronome, and Marinette counted 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3, and Adrien began playing, through the introduction, and into the piece.  The harmonies from the keyboard were beautiful, creating consonance and dissonance with the violin, and while at times it was strong, it still allowed the violin to shine though.  Of course, it was their first time playing together, but the piece was as perfect as it could have been.  It became harder, with some fast runs, the piano staying constant, but it slowed again, before changing keys, going from the V to vi chord, to B minor.  

“Ok, I think that’s a good place to stop.  Any ideas?”  She turned off the metronome. 

“I’d like to play a vibrato on a few of the higher notes, can we do a run with that?”

“Yeah sure, from the top.”

She flicked the metronome back on, and he began his solo again.  The notes came smoothly, the piano calmly behind it, and he continued into the next section, playing it softly and solemnly to account for the minor key.  Marinette adjusted, looking at him oddly, as she had not written to slow there.  She played with him,  flicking off the metronome, now going against their speed.  It was beautiful, and so different than she had imagined it.  He did not speed up again once they went back to D major, ending the piece slowly, but with a great warmth.  His playing became soft and intimate, feeling as if it was only meant for her ears.  In that moment, it may have been.  It was beautiful, beyond what Marinette had written, beyond what she had sung.  His fingers made the notes ring, the piece whole. 

“Okay that was-” Beep. “-sorry I gotta check that.”

From:  Alya

> Girl, where the fuck are you.

From:  Alya

> It’s dark

From:  Alya

> And late

From:  Alya

> And there are creepy people out there.

“Sorry it was just Alya, I think I should go home now.”

“Okay,”  he packed up his violin, each piece going as perfectly back into is place as it had come from.

To:  Alya

> At Adriens, heading home now

From:  Alya

> No. Stay. Stay overnight, have fun.  

She put her boots and coat back on, and Adrien put on a puffy winter coat and a knit hat.  “I, I just thought I should walk you home, it being so dark and all...”  He didn’t know no girl needed to be walked home less than Marinette.  

“Thanks so much! It’s not too much trouble, right?”

“None at all.”  The pair entered the hallway, the elevator, the lobby and outside in perfect silence, neither quite knowing what to say.  They walked down one block, made a left, and kept walking, when Adrien noticed Marinettes shivering.  “You okay?”

“Y-y-y-eah,”  She shivered while talking.

“Here.”  Adrien lifted his arm and pulled her closer to him, hoping the fluffy coat would keep her warm, or maybe just block some of the wind.  She leaned in closer to him, trying to hide how pink her face had become, he wrapped his arm about her waist.  They walked another block, and then entered the lobby to Marinettes Building.  

“So, uh, tomorrow night we should meet here?”  Marinette asked.

“Sure, goodnight.”  Marinette stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“Goodnight!”  She said back, her face becoming more pink than it could be due to just the wind and cold.  She made a quick wave goodbye, and then almost ran towards the elevator.  Adrien turned to walk home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tonic- The first note in a key, so in D major its D.   
> Rosin- Sticky stuff used in string bows to make instrument sound.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Alya acts like my friends.

Marinette turned her key in the lock, and opened her front door with a loud creak.  The door opened inward, and she stopped to put her key back in her bag, looking down, before entering.  When she looked back up-

“Holy shit!”  Alya was standing in the doorway, her phone flashlight under her chin, the lights off in the apartment behind her.  The light reflected off her eyelashes, the underside of her cheeks, and her lower lip, giving her a strange and ghoulish appearance.

“Hello.”

“Alya, what the fuck?”  Marinette questioned, but her roommate just walked from the door, towards the couch.  Marinette followed, tripping over everything that lay in her path.  The lights were still off after all.  

“Sit.”  Alya flicked on the lamp in their living room, aiming it at her roommate.  Marinette blinked a few times, adjusting to the new light.  

“Are you wearing a bedsheet?”

“Maybe.”  Alya had thought that wrapping the purple bedsheet around herself would give her a more sinister appearance, but with the light on it just looked childish.  She got up to switch on the overhead light.  “Soooo, how was your date with Adrien?”

“Alya!  It wasn’t a date!  I was just asking him to play a piece for me!”

“Suuuuure, out of the, what is it, hundreds, of violinists at your school you ask Adrien?”

“I mean, he is the best,”

“Oh yes, and the fact that you’ve had a thing for him, for what, forever, didn’t have anything to do with that?”  Maybe forever wasn’t an accurate assessment, but even though Marinette had dated a bit in high school, they’d always been short relationships, and few between.  Watching him play, she’d fallen back in love with Adrien, hard.

“All I did was ask him to play a simple piece for me!”  Marinette grabbed the score out of her bag, showing it to Alya.

“Hmm, Composition in D major huh?”  She waggled her eyebrows at her roommate.

“Alya!”

“Bet you want to hop on his D maj-”

“Alya!”

“Kidding, kidding.  Although Nino did tell me he has a pretty nice-”

“Alya!”

“Anyway so what happened?”

“I asked him to play the piece today after aural skills.  You knew that!”

“I didn’t know you’d be going to his house!”

“We’ve been there before!”

“Yeah but all of us, not like just you and him,”

“Well Nino was there, but he were in Adriens room so-”

“Oh, and you didn’t feel the need to tell me about this?”

“It’s just where the keyboard is.”

“So, tell me how it is,”

“Kind of crowded, the walls are green,”  The walls were a soft shade of jade that had reflected off of his green eyes, and his bedsheets and curtains were a matching dark green.  The desk, dresser, and bed had been that pale pine Ikea distributed, probably bought in tandem.  The keyboard was old, with small heart stickers on each of the C keys.  Someone had learned on it.  It couldn’t have been Adrien though, Marinette thought.  If he played piano, she had no doubt he had played on a much better piano, not a cheap keyboard.  She had no doubt that his father would not let him stick heart stickers, of all things, onto the keys.  She’d met his father a few times, as Marinette.  The first had been when she’d won the school's composition contest, for a student piece Adrien would play at the teacher's conference.  That was in middle school, since then he had played for much grander occasions.  Mr. Agreste was brilliant, but cold.  His face only moved when he conducted, he only smiled for perfection.  It would have driven Marinette mad, so still felt that every composition was a work in progress, every note was uncertain.  But when Adrien had played it, oh when Adrien had played it, it had been beautiful and confident, not reserved like he usually was.  Playing something of his own choice she him free.  

“Hmm, so you spent hours in this boys room, in that small space and you do _nothing_?”

“Yep, he’d just woken up from a nap anyway, so I don’t think he was really thinking about me being in his room,”  She remembered his messed up hair, which he hadn’t fixed during their whole practice.  His shirt pulled up, wrinkled from sleeping, and his softly toned stomach.  

“Ooh is sleepy Adrien cute?”

“Yeah,”  Her face flushed a little bit.

“So, tell me what exactly happened?”

“We practiced for a while, he made some modifications to the piece, and then you texted, so he walked me home,”

“That’s so cute!”

“It was probably just because he was worried about me out on my own, he’s really nice that way,”  Marinette thought about how she has snuggled against his body against the cold, the warmth his puffy coat provided.  The way that she fit perfectly under his arm, that he had grown much taller than her, so that when they stop she only came up to his shoulder.

“Okay, my journalistic spidey-sense is no longer tingling, I’m going to bed,”

Night.”  Marinette walked back to her own room, flicking off the lights in the living room.  Her own room was dark, and she didn’t bother to turn on the lights, instead flopping down on her bed and opening her laptop.  She pulled up the browser, and opened the ladyblog from her “most visited” page.  If anyone ever wondered why she was on it so much, she always had Alya as a great excuse.  Not that she needed one, the close and personal footage of the famed superheroes made the blog popular enough.  There was a new interview up, a short clip of Chat Noir, after she had left him the night before.  He stood in the freezing parisian air, rubbing his gloved hands together, while Alya videotaped him. 

_ So, whats up with you and ladybug recently?  _

_ I love her, she is indifferent, as she has always been. _

_ I guess this black cats down on his luck, hmm? _

_ It seems so. _

The video turned around, so you could see Alyas face, but you could still hear Chats humming as he walked away.   _ A, B, D, D, E, F#, E, D _ .  His humming was sweet, and kind, but it was the tune had captured her.  It was her tune.  


	6. Chapter Six

Adrien was pouring orange juice into his cereal bowl when Nino emerged from his room, still in the same clothes as yesterday.  Adrien himself was wearing a green button-up shirt and black jeans.  Nino thought he dressed like a hipster.  

“Ew,”  Nino said, looking at Adriens orange juice and cheerios mix.  

“Hey, it’s not like you can cook either,”

“Thats true,”  They settled into a comfortable silence as Adrien walked around to the the other side of the counter, carefully scooping the cereal into his mouth.  As much as Adrien tried not to act like the stiff rich boy his fellow students imagined him to be, he still ate with all the proper mannerisms.  Always putting his napkin on his lap, always holding the fork in his left and knife in his right.  He sat up straight, with excellent posture  all the time.  When they played video games, he’d hunch over the controller, but as soon as the round was over, he’d sit up perfectly again.

Nino hunted through the cabinet for his Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and through the refrigerator for his  _ milk.  _  He wasn’t about to be one of those people who ate their cereal with orange juice.  He had morals.  He then walked over to the other side of the table, so he could sit with this flatmate.  The stools were wobbly, needing to be tightened, but he wasn’t going to be the one to do it.  He wasn’t sure Adrien knew how.

Adrien finished his cereal, and reached up to stretch, his right arm over to his left, bent at the wrist, his left arm pulling at the collar of his shirt.  Just underneath the collar, a light purple mark lurked.

“What?”  Nino grabbed Adriens collar pulling it down to reveal the full bruise.  It was round, and started just under his jaw, with about an inch diameter.  The skin there was rough and dry there. 

“Dude, thats from my violin!”

“Sure,”

“I’m not kidding!”

“Fine, fine but I think you and Marinette would be cute together,”  He sipped the milk from his bowl.  Adrien thought of her long black hair, the way her voice lept from note to note, beautifully singing the melody.  The way her brow furrowed when trying to do dictations in their aural skills class, her back hunched, scratching against the paper.  She was beautiful, he couldn’t deny that, her fair skin freckled gently over the tops of her cheekbones, long, thin fingers uncalloused.  Unlike his, which has the results of years of violin playing, of juvenile pressing too hard on the strings, and later on particular E string tearing the tips of his fingers.  They were leathery, and he kept his nails as short as he could, as to not to damage the strings.  Adrien might have been rich, but violin strings were expensive.  He liked changing the strings though, and had gotten quite good at it, wrapping them neatly around the post.  

Beautiful as Marinette was, she was not his lady.  

His lady had dark hair, braided back, and bangs gently skimming over her forehead.  She was strong, and confident.  She wasn’t afraid to sass him, to laugh at him, and at herself.  Marinette was cute, but she was shy, and clumsy.  Her face turned red at a moment's notice.

“I guess but-”

“I know, I know she isn’t ladybug, but what's the chance you’ll ever even get near ladybug anyway?”   _ Closer than you’d think _ , thought Adrien, but he kept that and the smile that threatened to creep up his cheeks to himself.  He thought about how his lady had sung the same melody, about had they had the same dark hair.  Maybe she was Marinettes cousin?  They were about the same height and age.  Maybe ladybug was in Marinettes composition class?

“Yeah, I guess...”

“And I mean, you could have gone for Lila, or any of those other girls you threw themselves at you.”

“Aw, Nino, you jealous?”

“How could I be, I’ve always had so much more than you,”  It was true.  Nino had only dated two or three people, but each time they’d gone out for months, or even years.  He and Alya had gone out for three years before Alya went away for the summer and they’d decided they were better off as friends.  He thought they still hooked up, but Adrien had no proof of that.  On the other hand, Adrien had plenty of dates, but mostly because he was too polite to refuse, and too scared to say no to the girls his father wanted him to go with.  Most recently was Lila.  She was beautiful, if boisterous.  They’d only had one date.  He’d kissed her on the cab ride back to his house, and when they’d pulled up to his building with her orange lipstick over his face, she’d wanted to come inside.  He’d told her his flatmate was probably sleeping, as it was past one at the time, a straight lie.  He knew Nino would be awake.  They’d started out the night at an Italian restaurant, where she’d joked with the waiter, gently slapping him on the arm.  Adrien wondered why an Italian would go out for Italian food, but the gnocchi was excellent.  _ Ciao, un po 'di vino per il mio ragazzo e io? _  The waiter poured them each a glass of red wine.  

They’d walked through the park after that, looking around Paris, at the beautiful lights and hearing how busy it was, even at ten.  He could not stop thinking about how he rather would have seen it all from above with his lady.  From up above, the lights looked so bright, outlining the buildings, the cars lights formed streams.  Red flowing one way, white flowing the other.  It was beautiful.  They reached the edge of the park, and she complained about being cold, it was late October, after all, and so he gave her his coat.  She snuggled herself into it, and one block after the park, they came to a club, which she pushed him inside.  There they ordered on B-52s, which burned his mouth.  They’d danced until the club closed, around one.  He’d had fun, badly dancing to the beat of some hip-hop music.  The two of them hailed a cab, and without thinking, he’d asked for his address.  She’d slid closer to him, and he’d leaned down, gently kissing he brunette, until she threw a leg over him, deepening the kiss as she straddled his lap.  She was petite and curvy, and he placed his hands on her waist, moving one into her long hair as they kissed.  He opened his mouth a little, and her tongue gently passed through his lips; moaning a little, as her hands wove themselves into his hair, and with his eyes tight shut, he could not stop himself of thinking of ladybug.  She was about that height right?  A little thinner, definitely.  

The car had pulled up to his house, he’d made his excuse, and given the driver a ten, telling him to drive her wherever she needed to go.  Not one of his finest moments.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,”  Adrien sighed.

“So why don’t you go with Marinette then?”

“Because we’re friends, dude,”

“So are Alya and I,”

“You two are the exception, and anyway I’m practicing tonight at her place.”  Adrien scooped up the bowls and placed them in the sink.  He leaned against the counter, elbows on the edge, waist bent. “You’re not going to be weird about that, right?”

“Not at all,”  Nino replied, opening his phone.  

To:  Alya

> They’re practicing again tonight

From:  Alya

> Omggggg.  I questioned Mari last night but she didn’t spill anything.

To:  Alya

> Same, but this morning.  You didn’t do the flashlight thing, did you?

From:  Alya 

> Maybe, maybe not ;)

Alya giggled.  She hadn’t done the flashlight thing in years, in fact, the last time she’d used it was to get math homework from him in when they were fifteen.  Just like, Marinette, he’d screamed.  The bedsheet was never questioned though, as once the completed homework was handed over, she’d thanked him with a kiss.  A little more than a kiss really, she made it well worth his effort on those math problems.  He’d never been a particularly good kisser, always too much spit, but they got along so well, who cared really?  Spit was fine if you could laugh at it.  

She awarded her journalistic spidey-sense for her being the most informed of the group, questioning Mari and Nino evenly.  All of Adriens gossip came by way of Nino, and from what she could gleam, he was not the bold, perfect violinist he projected himself to be.  The boy had never smoked, which while made sense for the singer, made no sense for the outgoing boy.  He’d never had liquor before Ninos eighteenth birthday.  Not even his own eighteenth, nope.  Ninos.  And she knew he’d turned down playing for several other music students, including his family friend, Chloe.  Maybe her friends piece was better.  Or maybe, he liked her better.  She looked over to her flatmate, singing in the kitchen,  _ And now you flip the pancake, flip the pancake, when there are bubbles on the edge you flip the panca- _

“Oh shit!”  Marinette had just flipped the pancake, but with what was a simple maneuver for so many, Marinette had somehow managed to flip the pancake onto her chest.  It had landed soft-side down, and slid down her chest.

“Oh Mari,”

“I got this, I got this,”  She said, pulling the doughy mess from her chest, and put it in the trash, and slipping off her shirt, running into her room to find a new one.  She dropped the soiled one in the corner, grabbing a clean shirt, a pink turtleneck, out from under Tikki.  

“Marinette,”  She softly chimed, “are you sure you don’t need to patrol tonight?”

“Yeah! It’s going to snow, so everyone should be pretty calm, right?”

“I suppose, do you have classes today?”

“Nope,”

“Do try and bring me some cookies today, will you?”

“Absolutely!”  Marinette ran out of her room, clean shirt newley on,  _ And then you try to stop the pancakes from burning, from burning. _

How that girl had grown up in a bakery, Alya would never know.  She made a mental note to get her an apron for Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sorry my Italian is terrible, if anyone has a correction, let me know!  
> Happy Easter if you celebrate it!!

**Author's Note:**

> The rating of this fic will be raised as needed!  
> No, the title is not a dick joke, its just my favorite key to play in.


End file.
